No way would he allow him to do that again…
“Sarah, sweetheart,” Joe said softly. “Why don’t you show Logan how well-behaved you are now?”
“Joe?” she said, her blood racing and excitement dampening her curls.
Logan plucked the plum from the bowl and held it between his fingers.
“Bend over in front of him.”
“I thought you said…”
“He’s not going to fuck you, baby.”
She gulped against the knot lodged at the back of her throat and carefully scooted off his thigh. Coming around the table, she squared her shoulders, letting her frustration show in her face, but only for Logan to see.
His legs were spread as he sat in his chair, and he held up one hand and circled his fingers, indicating she should turn.
With her face set in unconcerned mask, she turned and bent over, displaying her ass.
“Widen your legs. I need those pretty lips parted.”
“Damn,” she whispered and widened her stance, bracing her hands on her knees as fingers spread her, holding her open, and the plum was inserted. His fingers tugged at her lips, arranging them to clasp the fruit, and then a fingertip rubbed her clit briefly and drew away.
She shot him a glare over her shoulder, but he winked and turned his attention back to Joe. She straightened and walked stiffly back to Joe who patted his knee.
Afraid she’d crush the fruit when she sat on his thigh, she perched on the edge and clasped her legs tightly together to hold the plum inside her.
“That favor you owe me,” Logan began, “I’m calling in my marker.”
Joe swore then wrapped an arm around her waist. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’d like to invite the two of you over for a party.”
Joe’s face relaxed, a smile began to curve his mouth. “As long as we lay some ground rules first. Sarah’s marrying me, and I don’t want anyone doubting the paternity of any baby she has.”
Sarah jerked. Juice from the plum seeped from her, dripping loudly on the floor. “I’m marrying you? Says who?”
“Me. Now be quiet while we talk.”
Sarah couldn’t help it. Her labia began to pulse, squeezing the plum. More juice dripped to the floor. He wanted to marry her. She’d hoped for it, kind of expected it after the way he’d acted with her father, but still she would have liked to be asked first.
“Sarah, you’re making a mess. How about cleaning up the floor,” Joe said, his voice suspiciously even.
She rose clumsily, trying to clutch her thighs together to retain the plum. She reached for the towel lying on the table.
“No, I want you to lick it up.”
Her body vibrated like he’d pressed that little butterfly’s remote, but it was just his voice, the sweet tension in his tone that set her off.
Not caring what Logan saw, she slowly sank to her knees, placed both hands on the floor and stuck her ass in the air as she licked the droplets of plum juice.
Fingers traced the edges of her furled lips and prodded the plum.
She moaned, waiting for it, knowing what he was about to do and that he was letting Logan, with his dark, compelling gaze watch.
Joe dropped to the floor behind her. His nose nuzzled her sex. “God, I love the way this smells. Lemon and plum. Your sweet cunt.” His tongue stroked over the fruit, glancing on her folds.
Sarah shivered and dropped to her elbows.
The plum burst, and she knew he’d bit into it. Tongue and teeth pulled it from inside her.
“Logan…” Joe spit out.
“I’m out of here. Friday night?”
“We’ll be there.”
Logan laughed all the way to the door, but Sarah could have cared less, because Joe hauled her to her feet and bent her over the edge of the table.
The rasp of a zipper and a deep, masculine groan sounded behind her, and then the tip of his glorious cock was pushing inside.
Sarah stretched out on the cool wood, enjoying the smooth forward and back glides that slid her nipples along the surface, but especially the steady thrust of his thick cock as it crammed into her pussy.
The apron fell open, the ties drifting toward the floor. “I like you all domestic.”
“Dream on if you ever think I’m gonna be barefoot and pregnant and waiting on your ass.”
Smack!
Sarah smiled and laid her hot cheek on the table. “When did you decide you wanted to marry me?”
“When I was following your pretty ass bent over your motorcycle,” he said, his voice tight as he hammered into her.
“Know when I decided I wanted to marry you?”
“Tell me, baby.”
“When it finally sunk in why you brought me to Logan’s that first night.”
“Why do you think I did it?”
“Because you knew you had to shock me. Had to be the best I’d ever had. And you were…are.” She groaned when fingers reached beneath her belly and strummed her clit.
“When are you going to say it?” he asked gruffly.
She bit her lower lip. “That I love you?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought I already had.”
“When? I must have missed it.”
Her lips stretched into a smile. “Every time I disobeyed you. I begged for you to touch me, to discipline me. Think I’d let just any man do that?”
A growl rumbled behind her, fingers plucked and squeezed her clit, his thickness punished her, stroking deep and hard.
“Don’t ever expect me to be good,” she murmured. “I’ve got no incentive to change.”
“Baby,” he whispered, finishing her off with a flourish, “I’ll never admit this again, but I love the fact you’re a bad, bad girl.
* * *
Don’t miss the next Texas Cowboys story:
Night Watch
Read an excerpt below!
About Delilah Devlin
Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred eighty stories in multiple genres and lengths, and she is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Entangled, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Kindle, Kindle Worlds, Montlake Romance, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.
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Night Watch
Texas Cowboys #6
New York Times
and
USA Today Bestselling Author
Delilah Devlin
Chapter 1
Enjoy this excerpt from Night Watch! ~ DD
Logan Ross let his police cruiser idle past the middle of town to survey his domain. Since moving to Paraiso from San Antonio, he’d learned to appreciate the slower pace and savor small things such as the change of seasons even, if there were only two in Texas. It was certainly different from life in the city.
Here it was on a Friday morning opening a three-day weekend, and there weren’t any commuters honking horns or rat-race executives screaming into cell phones. Nope. Shopkeepers busied themselves around their white limestone stores with their brightly colored windowsills and doorframes, putting up sale signs and displaying their wares on unattended tables under their equally bright awnings.
His gaze snagged on Annie’s Antiques, and Annie, not to be confused with the original Annie who happened to be her grandmother, carefully arranged an array of quilts on an outside table. It was just the type of thing that would attract someone who wanted to make a home. Instead of admiring the quilts, he paused to appreciate the fit of Anni
e’s chic sundress before allowing his gaze to move restlessly on.
Since his buddies had settled down, Logan found himself feeling more and more like he was standing on the outside looking in at a happiness that continued to elude him. Both Cody and Joe seemed to thrive on their domestic arrangements, making Logan wonder what he was missing.
Still, life in Paraiso was good. And Logan thought he might just have found the remedy to the constant lonely ache that settled in his chest at night and gripped his loins so tightly no amount of self-gratification could relieve it.
Shaking it off, his gaze went back to the town, and there she was.
Schoolteacher, came the primal growl rumbling up inside him. Every red corpuscle streaming through his veins rushed south.
The tall, gawky figure striding down Main Street straight toward him drew his attention from everything else around him.
Just a glimpse of the unfashionable denim smock she wore was enough to make him as hard as rock. In his experience, schoolteachers never dressed fashionably. Still, it didn’t matter to him. She could wear a gunny sack and push his buttons.
On some unidentifiable level, his reaction to her still shocked him. She wasn’t his usual type—built like a brick house with curves so deep and round he could clamp his fingers on the woman’s flesh and steer her like a Porsche.
No, Schoolteacher was downright bony with an angular face. Her medium brown hair was the same soft shade as the deer he’d stalked through the woods just last weekend. Come to think of it, she resembled the creature with its slender, muscular build and darting glances, too.
Maybe that was the attraction—he equated the woman to prey.
Still, her demeanor and her wardrobe choices made him wince. Prim, buttoned-up, unfashionably homey. While he watched, she stopped to chat with Annie as she ran a hand over the bright handmade quilts. Some were older and yellowed with time, while others showed less age and were every color of the rainbow. Even as he watched, she picked up the sign that read, “Good Price for a Good Home.”
Standing next to the chic and well-dressed Annie, Logan had to question his reactions to her. But, as ugly as her dress was, it couldn’t hide the slender curve of her hips or the length of her coltish legs. Even her hideous brown sandals turned him on. They made her feet look like a duck’s paddles until you looked closely and saw the slender beauty of her toes.
He’d caught a glimpse of them once, when he’d cornered her in the Gas ’n’ Go mini-mart squeezing fruit. A plum to be exact. Just the thought of it made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.
Her long fingers had engulfed it, wrapping around the plump fruit to squeeze gently.
Naturally, he’d pictured her squeezing something else just about the same size and circumference. He’d been arrested in place, watching her test the fruit and vegetables for ripeness.
Hell, she’d been so intent, sniffing the stem of a cantaloupe, she’d never noticed him standing there. Until he’d snuck right up behind her and reached over her shoulder for a honeydew. Her shock had made him smile and had totally knocked her off-balance.
She’d backed up, her bottom brushing the front of his denim jeans, and he’d known the exact moment she realized what she’d snuggled up against. When she turned, her cheeks had blushed a fiery red, and her soft mouth had gulped like a guppy’s.
He’d mumbled an apology, embarrassed at his lack of self-control and walked stiffly away, catching a glimpse of a sexy novel in her cart as he passed. But he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder for one more look.
She’d placed her hands on the melons as though afraid her legs would crumble, and he’d left the store still smiling.
Over the months he’d been in Honkytonk, it seemed as though he was fated to have her, because something kept placing her in his path.
The one house that had suited his needs sat at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac right next to hers.
Then the sheriff had selected him as the new liaison at the high school to roam the halls, get familiar with the kids, and lead the anti-drug education classes.
His first class had been in the room right next to hers. Of course, she’d dropped the handouts she’d carried the moment she saw him step outside the door of his classroom.
Like a waterfall of white and black, the papers had spilled at her feet, and then she’d sloshed coffee from the cup she carried as she bent over too fast, trying to retrieve them.
He’d knelt at her feet and gathered the handouts, wiping coffee from them on his pant leg before handing them back to her.
When he’d caught the surprised pleasure in her rounded eyes, he’d felt like a hero. But she’d quickly blinked and stiffened, her mouth sliding into that firm, prim line he was beginning to know all too well.
That didn’t stop him from feeling like that guy who’d whipped his cape over a mud puddle for some queen long ago. Perhaps fortunately for him, the woman who stood in front of him didn’t have a clue what more he was willing to do to please her.
Somehow, someday soon, Schoolteacher was going to come to him for instruction.
Over the past weeks, he’d fed her tantalizing glimpses of his body and his interests.
He’d padded barefoot to the mailbox when he’d spotted her car pulling into her driveway. He’d purposely worn a thin pair of sweatpants that fell beneath the notches of his hips and molded his sex in blatant detail.
He’d invited his friends for barbeques on his back deck, and left the windows open so that she might hear their rowdy shouts when they watched a game on the television.
One night after he’d spotted her standing in the field between their lots with her telescope pointing toward the sky, he’d made damn sure she had more interesting sights to train her lens on.
Perhaps he’d shared a little too much. Maybe he’d even frightened her. But it was best she understood his needs from the outset. Besides, fear was something he could twist into obsession.
In the meantime, he trailed her surreptitiously in his patrol car, pulling into a parking space when she entered a shop, and then continuing to trail her when she came out.
How she could have failed to notice him, stalking her along the narrow street, mystified him. But then again, most times he saw her, her eyes seemed blurred as though staring at something in the distance. Schoolteacher seemed perpetually lost in a daydream.
How he wished he could slide inside her mind. Were her dreams filled with erotic images of bodies dipping and writhing toward ecstasy? Or were they more romantic?
Logan grimaced, wondering if he’d have to do some research to figure out what a woman like her would find irresistible. His gaze passed the bookstore with its blue and white awning and tables set on the sidewalk for passersby to stop and sample the books.
Logan glanced at his watch. His lunch break was coming up. He had just enough time.
* * *
A breeze tugged at the hair Amy Keating had scraped back into a ponytail to keep it out of the way, and she hoped the wind didn’t continue to build or this night’s expedition would be a bust.
If the sky remained clear, and the wind didn’t interfere too much with her charts and equipment, she’d be closer to her self-imposed goal.
Concentrating on the celestial bodies on Messier’s list rather than the corporal and virile specimen next door had proven the greater challenge these past weeks.
Her neighbor commanded attention wherever he went. She wasn’t the only one to notice.
The day he’d surprised her in the hallway at school, and she’d dumped the worksheets she’d prepared for her class at his feet, she hadn’t been the only female in the vicinity to sigh as his big, brawny body folded gracefully to the floor. When he’d dried her coffee-stained papers on his thick, muscular thigh, she hadn’t been able to drag her gaze from him. Something in her chest had tightened. Sensual awareness had sharpened to an exquisitely honed edge.
As he’d lifted the papers to return them to her, his fingers slid along her pa
lm. A little electric current had passed from him, and she’d stiffened with shock. Heat had curled deep inside her.
As she’d sputtered her thanks and then hurried through her door, she’d heard Carla Banks and Vanessa Rosas in the hallway giggling. She must have looked like a red-faced fool. But what woman wouldn’t melt into a puddle at just a glimpse of his powerful frame and handsome face? That he’d been clothed in a crisply starched deputy’s uniform had only added to his masculine charm.
His universal appeal had given her the strength of will to carry on as usual, despite the constant distraction of seeing him everywhere she went. If she hadn’t known any better, she might have thought he was stalking her, which could only be wishful thinking on her part. What on earth did she have to offer a man like that?
While she knew she wasn’t a complete bow-wow, she was honest enough with herself to admit that she was plain. Her hair was a nondescript brown, her skin colorless with a smattering of freckles that looked like droplets of mud on a pale blanket of snow. It was her height, however, that was her most notable flaw. Nearly six feet tall, she was too large to inspire a man’s protective instincts—something she completely, secretly craved.
Not for the first time in her twenty-eight years, she wondered how wonderful it must be for one of those women, the full-figured Barbie dolls, whose heads snuggled nicely against a man’s chest. Hers, she imagined, would lie atop Deputy Ross’s broad shoulders.
Annoyed with herself for wasting time yearning for something she’d never have, she pulled a flashlight from her bag and turned it on. The red lens was just bright enough to check her Star Chart for settings for her scope without destroying her night vision.
M43—the Orion Nebula—beckoned.
In the distance, the growl of a powerful engine rumbled loudly as it approached. Neighborhood dogs barked. Car doors slammed shut. Laughter pierced the air—a feminine squeal, followed by low, rumbling masculine chuckles.
Slow Rider: Texas Cowboys #5 Page 8